Fes Taylor Notorious Thug Life текст песни, слова песни Notorious Thug Life Fes Taylor
Fes Taylor - Notorious Thug Life
Aiyo, who the king of the streets, man?
Fes Taylor, Fes Taylor, you know on beats
Two 4 War Entertainment, that's what's up
Mighty Healthy Productions, nigga, that's what's up
[Fes Taylor:]
Aiyo, crime rule, cash come with the business
Told you dudes, marijuana my wife, henny my mistress
Go head, be a statistic, come on, be realistic
It's me and you, who you think gon' air the biscuit
My niggas on the Island, gon' feel this shit
Riker's to Staten, most cutting and clapping
Shaolin, picture me making us look bad
Put them 1983 raps back in your bookbag
All my crooks grab 44 mags, jumping out the jag
With the 38 tags, you a fag, bag
58's, think like this shit is 52 states
God damn, that's a whole lotta cake
Take what you want, word up, don't settle for scraps
I walk you to the safe, with the metal to your back, react
We on top now, I can see ya'll haters somewhere down there
Hoping I flop now, I got rounds, plus big hammers to put 'em in
And you not that nigga, fuck what you could of been
I'm a I'll rapper, I'll gun game, I'll knuckle check
Do niggas like I'll, and buckle your neck
[Chorus: Fes Taylor]
We got hood rats with gats in front of the spots
Wolves on the block, ready to scrap with cops
The hood heartless can't laugh when you shot
Take the chain right off your neck, after you drop
What happened to Big, plus happened to Pac
Can happen to any one of us, think not
Adrenaline pumping, don't think when you pop, cause
Either you defending yourself or get rocked
Pop, pop, or get rocked
Pop, pop, or get rocked
Either you defending yourself or get rocked
[Fes Taylor:]
Park Hill streets taught me a lot, most niggas be fronting
Usually, the ones talking a lot
Killa Mac tracks bring out the best in my raps
How could you suck at, what you a professional at
See you over there, checking my stacks
Appear out the pitch black, Fes Taylor got this, player sit back
Never with joking, the same ol' comedy show
You listen to my rhymes, try to copy my flow
Never get it down pat, it's too complex
What type of baller is you, still wearing Timex
Fronting like it's Rolex, the great L.G. Profes
Pussy niggas get plugged without a Kotex
Spit til I got no breath, feeling like I just jogged a mile
Live in the ghetto, it's hard to smile
Screwface, you don't know me like that, why you playing me close
Rest in peace, my little homey, be ghost
I'm a rider, crews get stripped in stolen whips
Talk shit, nigga end up with swollen lips
Code of the street, don't snitch, clap your heat
Animal in the studio, ram shack the beat
Reved up heat, til the Lord comfort me, take my soul
Splash off when the jake patrol
Take gold like a leprechaun, roll like Decepticons
Autobots of the game, wild like Lebanon
Grew up in Vietnam, a/k/a Killah Hill
First video we shoot, trynna spend a mil
Fuck your label, I'm worth more than a record deal
Hit distribution, son, fresh out the institution
[Chorus]
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